Aspel Cassul: When in doubt, Aspel! (weaponry) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-02-23 22:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, aspel cassul, drake liu |
We bide our time, Though the time is fine... Why do we waste time, Hiding it inside?
Who: Aspel & Drake
What: Saturday afternoon bitchfest part 1 billion...
Where: Conference room in Bahamat Hall.
When: BACKDATED! Feb 8th.
Rating: PG-13 (WARNINGS!: Sexual innuendo, talks of sexual nature.)
Status: Complete!
It had become something of a comfort, really: the tredge to Bahamut, entering one of the conference halls, sitting down, and waiting. Sometimes, Aspel beat him. Other times, he got there first. Never seemed to matter: the routine was the same, familiar. First they’d discuss some business, then they’d segue into worries which inevitably turned into straight up complaining. They weren’t saints, but he tried really hard to not let people know that, yeah, the position was stressful and that, no, not everyone was smart. This week, he’d had to deal with one of the examiners suggesting a more hands-on exam. Not necessarily a bad thing, so Drake had invited her in for a meeting, a quick little get together to hear her ideas. Which had been to leave the squire - who was trying to make monk of all things - fight a group of bandits on their own. As she’d explained, she kept telling him how it was such a good idea! After all, the squire would deal with the riff raff on the streets, making Emillion a safer place and freeing up the valuable time of the Rangers! So what if the squire would potentially end up dead or injured - that was a small price to pay for the greater good, right Councilor Liu? Needless to say, that proposal had immediately been rejected. Maybe he needed a vacation. A short trip or something. He hadn’t taken one in a while. Surely Aspel and Bram didn’t need him for the next month. Right? He placed his head on the table and sighed. While the smith always did her best to be early for these meetings - they were still a type of work - she wasn’t always successful. If it was sleeping in from a long week of tomfoolery, or other… Distractions keeping her bed bound, it was a bit hard to assure she made it out the door on time. Not to mention, Aspel had to fight against her self very hard to assure she was on time for well… Much of anything. Her natural inclination was to run late, and the smith had managed to do well with that for the most part for the past several months but… It just felt like it was getting harder and harder with every passing day. Today, would be no exception. Rushing into the hall from the blistering cold outside, Aspel found herself quickly striding down the halls, and into the agreed upon meeting room with Drake already having taken up residence within it. “My apologies.” Came the breathy sounding word as the smith set into unwrapping herself from various winter based clothing. “Would you care to start?” A quick glance was offered in his direction as her jacket was draped over the back of one of the chairs. Faram damned weather, it might just be the death of her yet. Drake looked up when Aspel entered, but didn’t bother righting himself. She’d seen him slumped like this enough on Saturdays that it really wasn’t much of a surprise anymore, and he was still tired. At least he wasn’t asleep. “No worries,” he told her, shrugging. He was sure it looked awkward, hunched over as he was, but whatever. “First order of business,” he announced. “I need a vacation. A long one. Somewhere warm. You and Bram don’t need me, right?” He looked at her, hopeful. “If I have to deal with one more disgruntled teacher proposing a new training program where the squires are thrown to the wolves - literally - I might cry. You wouldn’t want me to cry, right?” He wasn’t sure if it would work - he wasn’t planning on it - but this was supposed to be a safe space, and he had a lot to complain about. It was a good idea, really; blow off some steam, come up with some new ways to handle the people who weren’t that bright, go home. It was one of the reasons that he was still able to keep doing this. No one had told him that his fellow guildmates didn’t understand basic concepts of safety and common sense when he’d applied for this position. And that was saying something, since he wasn’t exactly the brightest or smartest person in the world. “Do you?” A curious brow rose as Aspel plucked at the fingers of her gloves, carefully pulling them off before beginning to flex her hands. Even with the the material covering them, the cold had set in to a frustrating degree, leaving her feeling much like she’d traded her hands for blocks of ice, and how it made her bones, and muscles ache. Unfortunate really. The cold of winter’s often made smithing hard, but the older she became, the more the smith would feel it with each passing year. “If you really feel a vacation needed, I am certain we could aptly handle any misfortune the guild may face from monstrous paperwork stacks, and mischievous squires.” Really, it wasn’t the worst they could encounter, but writing it off as such just seemed far easier than not most days. The smith’s gloves were tucked in the jacket’s pocket, and from there off would come the scarf - being unwrapped carefully before being laid over the same chair as her coat. A soft smile was earned from Drake’s continued venting, and finally having discarded most Aspel would finally make her way over to his side, a hand caressing easily through his hair, and over the back of his head. “Sometimes, I fear our peers are merely a group of neanderthals that have successfully managed to masquerade amongst the general populace as supposedly enlightened individuals.” Fingers would continue to stroke through his hair for a moment longer - an attempt at a soothing gesture - before the smith would finally move away, taking up a seat nearby. “On a more important note, I suspect it would be beneficial for me to know of which - supposed - professor interacting with our future members made such a… Lacking suggestion to you.” The fact that each week they had a new person, or group within the guild to vent about over their months of being established within the roles certainly was telling still. He grumbled in agreement, enjoying the feel of her hands through his hair before she moved away. The casual touches were always a bit surprising; it was starting to get harder to remember that this was supposed to be some elaborate hoax. He was finding himself wanting to do silly things, like hold her hand or find out her favorite flower to leave it on her desk. Things he would do for the people he was sleeping with, and he was most certainly not sleeping with Aspel. Not that he didn’t want to. Drake sighed and brought his attention back to the conversation. “Arlene,” he said, sitting up and leaning back into his chair. “I think she’s finally cracked. Pretty sure that someone putting a snake down her tunic was the last straw.” It wasn’t that he didn’t sympathize, but he thought that a squire massacre was a bit extreme. “Arlene.” Aspel repeated quietly. The repetition was an absent attempt to commit the name to memory. She was fairly certain that there was a face that could be associated with the name given, but with the number of fighters that came through the halls in any day… Well, sometimes it wasn’t as easy as she hoped. “Ah, perhaps we ought to take her away from them for a bit then, no? Give the more troublesome ones to either a more seasoned variety, or perhaps, a fresher trainer, one not as bogged down with the trials and tribulations of mentoring as she.” It seemed the best course of action in a time like this. Give the trainer a break for a little bit, allow them to regain their bearings. “Perhaps Bram would like a squire. I suspect we could always ask.” A joke of sorts of course, between being council, and his relations to EKP, the man surely had his hands thoroughly full as it was. He couldn’t help but laugh at the suggestion. Bram seemed to the busiest of them all, especially with all of the challenges that the EKP seemed to be having. If word ever got out about that, Drake was pretty sure there would be a new PR issue for Aspel to handle. “Pretty sure he has enough to do, really,” Drake said, shaking his head. “Otherwise I’d say give him Conan, but he’s been assigned to Zacheus, last I heard.” Which reminded him, he’d have to check in the them, see how things were going. He knew Zacheus had been out of town more often than not lately, and he had no idea what Conan had been doing in his mentor’s absence. “What about you? What have you got for today?”l “But of course. I believe we all do.” Which it wasn’t just a belief, it really was a fact of reality. The Fighter’s Guild, as much as it had gotten better over the past several months, still left Aspel often feeling like they were all barely hanging on by their fingernails. “Ah, well.” Aspel moved, taking up a chair near Drake’s before easily crossing one leg over the other. “Are you familiar with Drig? The particularly large knight that - I sincerely believe - often acts more the part of berseker with his taciturn responses, and grouchy nature than a proper Knight ought.” Only a beat would fall before Aspel launched into speech again. “It would appear our rather tight lipped friend is being accused of singing within the showers at unspeakable hours of night as he resides within one of the halls. Which - of course - I have had scores of complaints about this mystery singer, and their rather lacking pitch it would seem. Several seem to think Drig is the culprit at hand for this particular situation, yet, I must admit a certain bit of wonder if it is indeed singing that is the real issue here or if perhaps Drig has taken a liking to one of the other Knights of late.” A glance was cast over her shoulder towards the door briefly, both checking that she’d closed it - sometimes her mind let slip the strangest things - and also allowing Drake the time he would need to swallow down the tale. Quite frankly, if Drig had finally taken on a cute little archer boy, or some other companion, as for as Aspel was concerned? Good for him. Drake’s eyebrows raised as Aspel spoke. Once she finished, he started laughing. “Oh, that’s great,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, good on him if he’s finally made a move on Alain.” He’d known about Drig’s uncomfortable interest in his fellow Knight for a while - it wasn’t that easy to figure out, really. And Drig was horrible at keeping his eyes off Alain whenever the two were in the same room. He’d thought about trying to help, mostly since Drig was a nice guy, but the one time he’d brought it up, Drig had turned scarlet and begged Drake not to say anything. Chances were Alain had gotten fed up with waiting and did something. It was more likely than Drig doing something, anyway. “So, what? Should we put up notices in the showers to keep singing to a minimum at night?” He chuckled. Man, this was just too good. And definitely got his mind off of Arlene the Squire Killer. They’d have to deal with her, but for now, he was going to focus on Drig. “Ooh! I know. Maybe we can get Karras to approve private showers in the quarters. Think if we explain the reasoning, he’ll cave before we even get to the practical applications?” Aspel’s hands folded neatly in her lap, a soft smile playing over her lips. “I believe approaching this in both regards may be best, an announcement restating the appropriate regulations, and desires for respect of the majority’s time in which they sleep, along with an appeal to Karras for better…” A pause, amused consideration lingering over her features. “Quarters for the more experienced knights of course. We must reward our best, no?” Really, if they took both approaches, certainly one thing or another ought to work out. “Probably the best idea, really,” he agreed. “At any rate, we’ve got some people who live exclusively out of the guildhalls, so it would make them feel more at home.” And would potentially discourage shower sex in the public halls. Probably. Maybe. “Anyway, we can draft something up and I can hang it. We can bring it up with Karras the next time we see him.” Which was sometime. In the far off future. Karras always seemed so busy that Drake hated bringing anything to him, but there were certain things that the Council itself couldn’t decide and needed the Riskbreaker’s approval. Not a whole lot, but mostly the really big things and the things that would make a really big difference. Like a bigger budget for training weapons. Which reminded him… “Someone broke the last pair of non-broken claws.” “My thoughts precisely.” And there was an odd sort of ease that settled in as she spoke of what seemed to nearly be nonsense as of late. Something that allowed her to pretend as if the outside world didn’t exist for at least a little bit, to think that everyone, and everything outside of the gate of the hall, outside of the door that locked them into their private meeting was different, was outside of them and…. A feeling crept in, which was shucked off without a second thought. A sigh slipped from Aspel’s lips, her face transforming to a sort of mildly annoyed ‘Really?’ while at the same time no words were spoken at all. Her posture relaxed slightly from its more formal beginnings, and she shifted in her seat, seeming to become a bit more comfortable. This was always the case for Aspel, start off formal, and slowly slip into casual over the course of the meetings. Sometimes it happened a bit more abruptly than others, sometimes it barely happened at all. Then came a huff of air as she considered the situation at hand. “We shall need to cut back on extra expenses if we are going to attempt to push for a construction project within the guild halls.” The words were absent, thoughtful to some degree, another heavy sigh fell. “How are the rest of our stocks?” Aspel’s eyes turned up towards Drake’s with a solution clearly brewing behind them, but not quite solidified yet. “Last inventory showed that most of the offensive equipment is in need of repairs or straight out replacing. Last time anything new was purchased was three or four years ago, and some of our current squires are more serious about their training than in the past. Not to mention that most of us use the equipment, too.” They were maybe a bit too harsh on the training weaponry, but there wasn’t really anything that could be done for it. Many of the people who had made class brought their own weapons from home, but the squires didn’t really have any. That was completely leaving out if someone was learning a new type of weapon. Drake used the swords in the training hall when he was in the mood for it, and he knew of a few other people who did the same. There was something to be said for being able to wield different kinds of weapons. “I’m not sure how much more we can cut back, though. We can probably do some sort of fundraiser for weapons and petition Karras for showers? That’s if he even agrees to consider them.” “Ah, well,” Aspel began, quite calmly enough. “I do have a forge if you have forgotten.” It was a simple solution enough, though it would pull from her personal store of supplies a bit. “Certainly, there would be room for a stipend of sorts to help assist with the repair and replenishment of weaponry for the equipment stores if a steep discount was also taken by the supplier.” It may be a conflict of interests in some regards but…. Aspel had been itching to get back to her forge, and it wasn’t as if she would be asking for anything on the back end aside from time away from Bahamut hall…. “Additionally, I am certain there must be something we have missed.” Though precisely what it was at this time… She wasn’t entirely sure. “Perhaps those who regularly use the guildhalls are aware of some discounts we may be able to obtain through connections they have - or man power they can offer from professions of another life - to assist with such reconstruction. Your thoughts?” Drake thought about it. Surely they could figure out how to install a shower. And it wasn’t like every room would need one. Off the top of his head, he only really knew of about fifteen, twenty people who chose to live in the guildhalls. Then there were the Blades living in the church, but that was something else entirely. Not their jurisdiction, not their problem. “Could work. We could probably even ask the people who took residence if they’d be willing to have their wages garnished a little to help get them a personal shower.” As for the weapons, he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of Aspel doing all of the repairs herself. “Will you have time for it? I mean, it’s not like we have a whole lot of time to do what we want even when the city isn’t falling around our heads.” He reached over and placed his hand on her arm. “I wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself.” “There are options of course. I am certain we will be capable of making so option work.” The showers would appear to be a big deal on the front end, but it likely wouldn’t be as terrible as it would sound initially in the end. “I am certain we could probably make a case for a little special treatment raising morale, or something of the sort.” Which Faram knew, they could all use a little morale boost right about now. “I would need to take a some days - from time to time - where I worked from home undoubtedly. Additionally, I would have to hire someone to assist with the shop again.” Which she certainly wasn’t opposed to in the least. Teaching someone the trade of smithing - not entirely on their own - but enough to help her get by, would be ideal. Even if it was just someone to fetch materials, and take inventory. “But I believe it manageable, and once the initial repairs, and replacements are completed for the upkeep to be quite easy. It would just be a matter of keeping regular stock of the equipment is all, and to repair in time with the damage, instead of in response to a deficit of sorts as we now face.” Really, it seemed simple enough, and depending on the level of strength, and quality the guild needed for training - which if she recalled it wasn’t terribly high or hard - these pieces undoubtedly would take far less time than the ones she generally commissioned her self out to work upon. A soft smile was given to him for his concern however, and a hand rose to pat at the one he’d placed upon her arm. “It would be no extended burden, I assure.” “Uh huh,” Drake said, turning his hand to catch hers. “You know, if I thought that you wouldn’t overextend yourself, I’d be all for it. But your track record is about as good as mine is for staying out of the clinic.” Although that had gotten much better, thank you very much. Except for the hoverbike incident. And the last few attacks. But did those really count? Nope. “So, seems like we have plans for those two things. Which is good.” He paused and frowned. “Right?” With his upturned palm available, her hand came easily to rest within his. “Yet, you seem to forget that my track record for clinic visits has nothing to do with my smithing.” And it was true too, the amount of times she’d ever visited a clinic for something smith related since coming to Emillion she could count on one hand. Now… Running off to fight things, well… That was a different story altogether. “In fact, I am likely to wager that I will be safer within the walls of my forge than I would be in any other part of Emillion with how things have been of late.” And that also was true. Sad… Yet true. “It would appear we do.” The pause, and frown from the man before her earned a quirking of brow. “I see no reason for it to be not.” A beat fell. “Unless you would wish to suggest something else for which we can whittle away the hours with?” There - of course - was a tease of sorts, and perhaps, an invitation depending on how one wished to look at it. Drake smiled and shook his head. “I would suggest lots of sex on the table, but someone might walk in. Plus, it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to press you against the cold, hard wood.” He squeezed her hand and shrugged. “But we could grab lunch.” He was going to offer to send a message to Ari and have her join them, but he found that he wasn’t all that keen on sharing Aspel’s company today. “There’s this great noodle place that Elvira took me to a few weeks ago, actually.” It had been pretty good; the broth had almost reminded him of home. Not quite, but almost, and he was sure that was the closest he was going to get in Valendia. “A pity.” Was all Aspel would offer in response verbally to Drake’s dismissal of them fornicating upon the table right then, and there while a soft smile played at her lips. The squeeze was returned without much thought letting him finish carrying on before she would set in to her response. “While I am never one to deny the idea of lunch, are we finished business here first?” A simple order to things, they wouldn’t want to talk about some of these things outside of the closed doors in front of them, that just wouldn’t do. “I’ve mentioned Arlene and the equipment,” he said slowly, as though ticking things off of a mental checklist. “Those were the only known issues. Mentioned my desire for a vacation - maybe somewhere sunny.” Tick. “Oh! I know what I forgot. Bonfires. I swear we can get a good one going with all of the stupid, extraneous, useless petitions we’ve been getting.” Just the thought of the piles upon piles of petitions for things such as the soap in the women’s quarters is not a scent of my liking or there’s a patch of dead grass in the training yard were starting to make him want to burn things down. Seriously, did people just think that the Council could wave a magic wand and fix everything? They weren’t the Mages Guild, for crying out loud. And why couldn’t they take initiative themselves? Bring your own soap. Stop bleeding on the grass. Simple. “And taking me against the table.” Aspel added in easily after Arlene and the equipment, almost as if it naturally belonged on the list of things they - of course - had needed to speak of before letting him continue on, and watch him in amusement as he spoke. It was fascinating how one could nearly watch the gears turn within his head as he thought through each process. “Mag is terribly fond of telling me a fire would be of great use for all this mess.” Quite frankly, the smith had lost count on the number of times Mag had brought lighting fire to all of it had happened at this point. Honestly, Aspel was starting to feel like she was right. Absently, her thumb began to stroke across the back of Drake’s hand. He was a rather large and handsome man, it was a terrible pity he seemed unlikely to follow through on his previous idea…. “Fire solves everything,” Drake decreed. Perhaps a bit of a strong statement - fire wouldn’t actually solve the problems, but it would make him feel better. “Mag is a woman after my own heart, then.” His thumb began to trace circles on her inner wrist. “So, aside from my sudden desire to be a pyromaniac - it’s a good thing I don’t know any spells - do you have anything else to discuss?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer to that to be yes or no, honestly. He was starting to get hungry, but he was also enjoying just sitting here. He could enjoy her company - they were friends, after all. And friends sat around all the time. Holding hands. And stuff. Maybe the table thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “Fire and ice.” An idle reference to a barely known poem, that was so obscure in the reference itself, Aspel hardly believed anyone capable of picking up the train of thought at all. However, the thought was easily dragged away as the sensation of his finger trailing against her wrist was… Terribly distracting. “Mm?” Not even a second passed before the smith’s brain caught up. “Oh, nothing of work related topics, no.” Honestly, even if she had, they’d likely be long gone by now. Eyes glanced down briefly, noting the positioning of his hand before they trailed back up over Drake’s rippled physique. “I suspect that leaves us at an impasse then, no? Table or lunch, which do you think?” He almost said both without thinking, but caught himself at the last second, covering with an awkward sounding laugh. “Lunch is a good bet.” Safe. “We can table the table for next time.” And by then, they’d both have forgotten about it. Well, Aspel probably would. Drake, on the other hand, was going to have an uncomfortable time around Aspel and long wooden tables for a while. She’d fit perfectly on this one, though. If he could position her hips just at the edge-- He shook his head to clear the thought. Not good, Liu. “Certainly safe.” Something of a smug smirk pulled at her lips, the thought of teasing him further did appeal, and the idea of having sex right here in a conferences room within Bahamut hall had its own appeal as well. Especially, with Drake Liu... Though… With his sudden… Withdrawal from the tease, the smith decided it might be better put to rest for the time being, even if the thoughts of what it might feel like were certainly going to plague her at night. Well, one could always use a bit of extra material for her fantasies, no? Giving his hand a soft squeeze, Aspel pulled hers back, a glance cast at the door. “Then I do suspect we best be off before the winter’s chill chooses to strike particularly fiercely, and we find ourselves shivering through a storm.” Standing, and turning to where she’d placed her items not long before, Aspel prepared to leave. Perhaps, sometime later, they’d need to revisit those thoughts of tables and sex once more. |